


What You See I See

by aria_dc_al_fine



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: F/M, M/M, Soul Bond, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 14:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aria_dc_al_fine/pseuds/aria_dc_al_fine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every agent in MI6 has had his or her soul bond inscription surgically faked, often more than once. To Bond, swapping SBIs feels just like putting a contact lens, just on the skin of his hand instead of on his eyes. Soul Bond Inscription AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What You See I See

It’s surprising how much faith, or rather, _lack thereof_ , humans have.

Bond should know. He makes a living out of manipulating others’ hopelessness.

He pleasures women who have the names of other men etched on the skin of their palms, women who feel trapped, resentment brewing from too much embittered love. He comforts women who wear black rings around their fingers, lonely and yearning for the other halves no longer present in this world. Or women with silver rings and dead eyes, having given up on finding the one. They wear their hearts on their sleeves, literally [1].

It’s not always that sad. There are confident ones, those in a similar trade as him, or curious ones, who’ve only ever been with their bonded and no one else, whose bonds are platonic, or who are born _whole_ , not needing any soul mate (rare, that one. Bond had only ever met a couple). Bond takes pleasure in taking his partner apart with his hands and lips and prowess.

(Sometimes, he caresses women who think that _he_ was their soul mate. He’s never really comfortable with that, but work is work, and sex is always glorious.)

\-----

Every agent in MI6 has had his or her soul bond inscription surgically faked, often more than once. To Bond, swapping SBIs feels just like putting a contact lens, just on the skin of his hand instead of on his eyes.

It’s a weakness, these whorls and curls written on your body, a part of you that exposes your most important person to danger.

(He remembers though. Even though his skin says _Irene, Julia, Suzy, Imelda_ , he knows it’s _Vesper_.)

\-----

“I’m the money,” she said, and James thought, before knowing her name, _she’s the one_.

(Later, much later, on a rocking boat with the comforting familiarity of M’s voice as company, Bond spoke to his phone. “Why should I need more time? The job’s done and the bitch is dead.”

Bond listened with half an ear as the stern woman chided him. He didn’t let himself think of what it meant, that his soul mate was dead. That he was going to spend the rest of his life alone. He was never like the girls in his classes in university, who dreamt about finding the one, someone who understood them perfectly, and living happily ever after. He’d never allowed himself such hopes.

The death did give him a sense of finality that felt _crippling_ for a moment.

There was a small pocket of silence. Bond listened to M’s breathing for a while before she spoke again, more softly, “It’s Yusef. Her SBI.”

Bond didn’t know what to feel _relieved angry exasperated-_

He ended up flinging the phone to the water. And avenging her death, regardless. Because.

 ~~Loathe as he to admit it, whatever he felt towards her was real~~. [2])

\-----

“Inevitability of time, don’t you think?” Bond listened to the boy droning on and on next to him with little patience. “What do you see?”

“Bloody big ship,” Bond remarked carelessly and moved to excuse himself.

“Double-oh-seven,” that posh-accented voice stopped him. Bond sat back with an audible sigh. “I’m your new quartermaster.”

Bond let his mouth fall open for a second to show the boy his surprise before he spoke his sentiment, “you must be joking.”

“Why, because I’m not wearing a lab coat?” To his credit, the boy with bird-nest-I-just-fell-out-of-bed-hair, horned-rimmed glasses and wrinkled clothes meant for men ten years older (the parka really negated the impression the boy was trying to build. Or he just didn’t care about his appearance) held his ground.

Bond tested his hypothesis. “Because you still have spots.”

The boy’s thin wide lips actually curled upwards slightly. “My complexion is hardly relevant,” he started with a huff of breath, more edges in the words belaying a hint of frustration. He must have thought that Bond was a lug who only liked screwing and killing people. Let him think that way, Bond dismissed as he followed up on the conversation. “Your competence is.”

“Age is no guarantee of efficiency,” oh, ho, the boy was witty. Bond liked him a little more. “And youth is no guarantee of innovation.”

The boy blinked before he let out long strings of words. “I'll hazard I can do more damage on my laptop, sitting in my pajamas, before my first cup of Earl Grey, than you can do in a year in the field,” his voice was breathy, his plosives clipped but his ‘r’ drawn out by a rolling of his tongue. His large nose twitched as he talked quickly (like a hedgehog, Bond wondered absently [3]). And the picture he was trying to paint.

 _Is he flirting?_ Bond raised his brow inwardly. Glad to know that the boy wasn’t immune to his charms. “Oh, so why do you need me?”

The boy took a deeper breath and shrugged, still blinking. A nervous tick. He looked visibly more relaxed, though. “Every now and then a trigger needs to be pulled.”

“Or not pulled,” ah ha, Bond was winning this. “It’s hard to know which in your pajamas,” he turned towards his companion and returned the flirting, emphasising on the last word. The agent waited until the younger man met his eyes before he finally acknowledged him. “Q,” he offered his hand. _It was a good banter. Looking forward to work with you._

Q’s leftward smile was unpredictably charming. “Double-oh-seven,” he shook the proffered hand firmly.

Unknowingly, it was a good start to a lasting partnership.

 

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. To those of you who’ve never heard even a variation of an SBI AU, basically everyone’s born with a name inscribed on the skin on the inside of the base of his/her left ring finger. The name’s supposed to be the first name of his/her soul mate.  
> 2\. Obviously, Bond didn’t believe in SBI that much. Coz of his job, yes. He’d seen too many bond mates miserable.  
> 3\. I watched the clip of their conversation on YouTube a gazillion times (I lied, only dozens, at most).


End file.
